


When You Were Here Before

by Grinner_H



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Alternate Universe, Friendship, M/M, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-20 13:45:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3652608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grinner_H/pseuds/Grinner_H





	When You Were Here Before

**[NOW]**

 

It's hot.

Too fucking hot for spring, too fucking hot for pants and sweat-drenched shirts and stupid, _stupid_ ties. 

It's hot in ways that has nothing to do with the blazing midday sun beating upon my brow, and _everything_ to do with the wet slide of his mouth along the length of my cock. 

He _knows_ that I love this - watching him suck me off, watching him watch _me._ He stares at me with brown eyes that burn almost golden in this natural light, lips stretched pale and thin around my aching shaft, the obscene bulge of my cock beneath his alabaster cheek. 

It's in moments like these that I wonder what he's thinking. Reading him's always come easily to me, but in moments like these... _fuck,_ he swallows and I can't fucking _think._

These lips. This tongue. This _heat._ The way he licks and sucks and slurps like this hungry, hungry thing; melting my muscles away to nothing, turning my bones to cinders. 

_Fuck,_ he's _incredible._

And if I were a girl, this would be my Birkin. 

He's gulping again, hint of teeth - real light now - along the base of my cock, and holy _fuck,_ this man does _not_ have a fucking _gag reflex._

My fingers clench in strands upon strands of dark hair. _"Fei."_

I'm teetering on the brink of danger here, but I can't help it. It just... _slips out;_ unintended, uncontrolled. _"Fei, I love you!"_

He looks up at me with eyes smoldering with anger and disbelief. 

He looks at me like I've hurt him. 

\-- 

**[THEN]**

 

His name's a misnomer, if there ever was one. 

He's nothing like a dragon, too much like a cat. Aloof. Arrogant. Maddeningly _annoying._

His arms rest upon the top of the chainlink fence that skirts the edges of the high school roof. He leans forward perilously against thin, rusted steel. 

When I reach out, brush his right shoulder with my fingertips, he recoils like I've just stabbed him with a white-hot poker.

I stare at him, surprised. A little offended. "Hey. You're a regular Qohen Leth, aren't you?"

He stares right back at me, the point between his eyebrows creased, the line of his mouth turned down. _"What?"_

I raise an eyebrow, incredulous. " _Qohen Leth._ Bald guy? Number cruncher? Waited his entire life for _one fucking phone call?_ "

He regards me for this long, silent moment - like he's trying to decipher what it is I've just said. Like he's trying to decide if he should ask what I meant. 

Then, he frowns. Deeper. _Angrier._ "You shouldn't touch people so easily."

I grin at him. Light. Non-threatening. _This guy's weird,_ I think. _I like that._

My hand closes around the pack of cigarettes in my pocket. I retrieve it, hold it out to him. "Want one?"

He shakes his head. Doesn't leave. 

And that's how it begins. 

\--

I enjoy touching him. I really _do._

He acts like he hates it, because he _does._

Everyday, I find him on the school rooftop during lunch. Everyday, I offer him a cigarette. Everyday, he says no. 

I like putting my arm around his shoulders. Slapping him on the back. Curling my fingers into the edges of his neat ponytail. Trying to free those luxuriant strands from his enervating hair tie.

He'd duck, or flinch. 

I'd laugh, call him _Qohen_ like a tease. 

There's that frown, that downward turn of his pretty, pretty mouth. "I have a real name."

"I _know._ " I breathe cigarette smoke like dragon fire, exhale dramatically in what I hope is a terribly sexy gesture. _"Liu Fei Long."_ I like the way his name rolls off my tongue like the frictionless glide of velvet against skin. "I know _your_ name. Do you know _mine?_ "

He's always staring at me like he can't figure me out. But _now._

_Now,_ his intense eyes narrow, meet mine like a challenge. _"Takaba Akihito."_

And that's _truly_ how it begins.

\-- 

"Y'know," I chew-talk around mouthfuls of pastrami sandwich, "I'm beginning to think you're more _Lars Lindstrom_ than _Qohen Leth._ "

He gives me that look - that _I-have-no-idea-what-you're-talking-about-but-I'm-too-proud-to-ask_ look. Trademark Fei. He shrugs, turns his attention to the straw in his juice box. Nonchalant. Impassive.

And then - telltale twitch of his lip - he says, "But I've never fucked a blowup doll."

I choke on my sandwich. 

Fei laughs like the evil little thing he is.

\--

It's not like I planned it, but soon enough, Saturday movie nights become our thing. I like to sit beside him on the ugly, lumpy couch in his claustrophobic apartment - a foot between us, too close and too far away. 

We watch as many dumb horror flicks as we can. Last week was _Drag Me To Hell._ Today, it's _Tusk._ I try to hold his hand when the first image of Walrus Bryton fills the screen. 

"Smoking would be a lot harder," he intones, sweet like poison apple promises, "if your fingers were broken."

Though it's a lot harder not to laugh when he's less than an inch away from me by the movie's closing scene. 

I try, anyway.

\--

Progress. Fifteen movie nights in, and I'm watching _The Winter Soldier_ sideways; my head in his lap, bowl of popcorn on my belly. 

"Natasha's hot," I remark casually; like it's nothing, like I'm not half-hard gazing at all that tight black leather.

Fei _hn_ 's in reply, though not necessarily _agreement,_ only tries to shove me off the couch twice. 

\--

He likes the wind. 

He doesn't explicitly express it, but the broad smile on his face, his hand out the rolled down window of my brother's car say enough. 

_"Akihito,"_ he breathes my name like a sacred song, grins wide and loud like the cat who vexed Alice something awful. "Go _faster._ "

 _But._

No Cheshire cat, he. 

If he _were_ a cat, he'd be Cassandra. Aloof. Mysterious. _Drop dead gorgeous._

Then, there's this tingly heat somewhere south of my belly, and I have to clear my throat and forcefully keep my eyes on the road. I hit the gas and crank up _Chasing The Sun_ to earsplitting decibels.

Fei sticks his head out of the car, wind whipping his hair into what would surely be a bitch to untangle later. I don't think he minds how inconvenient it would be, how dangerous this all is. 

I like to think he feels the way I do. Emboldened, _exhilarated_ \- like those four chicks in _The Craft._ High on power and drunk on life. 

Only, I can't will the stoplights green, so I run all the red ones instead. 

\--

It's not the top of the world, but it feels just as good - lying on the roof of the car with nothing but our clothes to keep the cold metal from touching our skin. 

Above us, the stars are numerous and breathtaking. I'm fast regretting forgetting my camera, but I get by with the makeshift lens of my strategically positioned fingers.

"So bright," I marvel, looking through my pretend-viewfinder, wishing I was up there with the stars. "So beautiful."

I hear the rustle of fabric - Fei sitting up. Then, his face is in my line of sight; beautiful, incredulous. "Are you trying to do a Gollum impression?"

I can't help but laugh, dropping my hands and sitting up too. I notice the way he holds himself; arms across his slender frame, fingers digging into his triceps. 

I hold my arm out to him. "Hey."

Fei regards me for a minute. Two. He's always looking at me. Like I'm some kinda riddle he can't decode. 

But then, he scooches closer. 

I smile and wrap my arm around his shoulders, pull him tight against my chest. 

He goes very still, doesn't push me away. 

\--

**[NOW]**

 

"Is it so wrong if I tell you I love you?"

I ask this _every fucking time._

His answer never changes. "You shouldn't lie to me about things like that."

He still has my cum on his lip. My cigarette smoke in his hair. 

I've got his fingerprints on my hips, his spit on my cock, and this fucking ache in my heart which never leaves. I'd love to say, _"It's not a lie,"_ but what would be the point? 

So I shove him against the dangerously creaking fence and kiss him; tasting him, tasting myself.

\--

**[THEN]**

 

This is the moment that changes everything. 

Two people. A high school rooftop. Cigarettes and ash and cans of Coke. A balled up hamburger wrapper. A bentou box, three quarters full. And beneath the cover of clouds - 

A kiss. 

He's kissing me. 

_He's_ kissing _me._

And it's a lot less romantic, a lot less sexy than it should be. He just leans over, presses his mouth to mine; chaste, close-lipped, flavored with uncertainty.

When he pulls away, he stares at me with bright eyes and an awkward smile. "I just wanted to know what it tasted like."

I don't know if he's talking about my lunch, my cigarettes, or _me._ I wonder how long he's been working up the courage to do that. I wonder if he needed courage at all. "How did it taste?"

He sits back, smiles this small, private thing. "Good."

\--

Two more kisses later, I grab his wrist before he can pull away. "Hey. Whoever said you could stop?"

He doesn't. 

\--

**[NOW]**

 

We're boys. I like to think we're men, but some days, we're boys.

We lie on rooftops of schools and cars, stand on swings, and run red lights on empty streets at four a.m.

We race with the wind and chase the dawn. 

Some days - like this one - we sit on the beach with our toes in the sand. We watch the setting sun. I think it would be funny to cry. I wonder if he's thinking the same. 

But when I catch his eye, he's looking at me, grinning with slyness and giddy hilarity. "Hey, Akihito? If I'm Qohen, does that mean you're Bainsley?"

And I'm looking at _him_ \- weirdly beautiful and beautifully weird Fei, who loves kissing me, who hates when I tell him I love him, who used to hate being touched, and who loves it when I touch him. 

Fei Long, who only eats a quarter of his lunch, who likes tangling his hair in the wind, who loves tangling his limbs with mine on school rooftops and lumpy couches.

His grin's infectious, and I can't help but wink suggestively. "I'd look pretty fucking hot in that nurse outfit, wouldn't I?"

He laughs and laughs; this pretty, melodious thing and all I want is to _kiss him, kiss him, kiss him._

So I do.


End file.
